Times Come to Pass
by PiepsiPiper
Summary: I read the story Out of the Blue, and found it was unfinished, so I decided to try my hand at what I thought would happen next. If anyone would like me to take it down, please tell me! T for mild language in some areas. Also references Dance in the Rain. J/R, some M/C, Ross/Emily, Phoebe/Mike. No critique please, it was just something to pass the time
1. The Cobras

A week after the funeral. A whole week. A whole, sleepless, tiring, depressing week. If he hadn't remembered what a good night's rest was like before all this happened, Joey Tribbiani _definitely_ didn't now. A wail drug him out of his trance and he wearily sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at the clock, pulling away the covers. Two-forty in the morning. She always woke up around two in the morning, even before Rachel had committed suicide, when she was still taking the sleeping pills and slept right through it. Except she knew he got up every night to take care of Emma because he couldn't just leave the poor girl there in her crib to cry. Ross hadn't cared enough to take care of Emma, and before she'd gone through with the suicide she had transferred custody to Joey as the sole guardian.

Rachel.

A numb feeling stung him as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes for a moment. He got out of bed then. He opened his door, which creaked faintly, and made his way toward the sounds of Emma's cries. He bent over the crib, feeling her little hands wrap around one of his fingers and smiled a little. "Hey, what's wrong tonight, jelly bean?" he whispered, pulling her out of the crib and cradling her in his arms. She let out a cry, staring up at him with big, blue eyes. Just like Rachel's. His hands trembled slightly at the sudden realization but he was careful to get himself back under control. Well, at least he was facing the music of reality, but his friends were already shocked by the change. From a week he'd gone from constantly bringing a woman home to a little more grown up, at the least.

He stared down at the bundle, beginning to do as Chandler had once when the baby's cries had woken him, and walked around the room, swaying a bit, talking to her in a hushed voice. Emma began to quiet, holding onto his finger tightly, her mouth forming a small "o". After she had quieted, she stayed so for a few long moments, blinking up at him, not even looking very tired yet. What she said next broke his heart, "Mama!"

She'd said that the day of the funeral, too. Three times. He'd cried, holding her, telling her that her mother wasn't going to be back. Of course, she couldn't understand. So he just locked his eyes on her now, continuing to cradle her, rock her back and forth a bit. "She's not here." he said quietly, voice trembling. He was doing everything she should be doing as a mother. But she wasn't here.

"Mama! Mama!"

Joey shook his head frantically, shushing her as her voice grew louder. "She's not here." he repeated, and Emma stared up at him, seeming to search his eyes. Distraught that her mother wasn't coming to take care of her after he'd held her for a few more moments, she began to bawl again, wailing at the top of her lungs. Joey winced, knowing it would wake up Monica and Chandler. "Shh. Shh! You'll wake up Aunt Monica and Uncle Chandler."

She didn't listen. Her wails got louder, her voice growing hoarse from using it so much when she was still developing. He didn't know what to do, rocking her in his arms, biting his lip. He looked up when he heard a knock on the door. "It's open." he mumbled, and he heard the knob turn and noticed Chandler come in out of the corner of his eye. "Sorry."

He noticed a softness in Chandler's voice when he spoke. "What's wrong this time? Monica's cranky."

"She wants her mom, Chandler! What am I supposed to do?!"

Chandler raised his hand defensively. "I know, I know. She's just..not used to it yet. She doesn't understand."

Joey was quiet, didn't have anything to say. Of course she didn't. She was barely over a year old. Emma's wails brought him back to reality and he sat down in his armchair, sighing. He began to bounce her on his knee, blinking the gunk from his eyes. "This is so hard. I'm not cut out for this.."

"Maybe you're not, but Rachel was right. You do love her."

He only nodded, silently agreeing. Yeah, he guessed he did. Loved her with all his heart. Even more so now that Rachel was gone, one of the only things he had left of her, besides her dresses. He hadn't been able to trash them. They'd been too important to her. Instead, they now hung neatly in her closet, and he made sure to keep them nice and clean. Though, her bed still had the same sheets. Her favorite ones. He couldn't go in her room anymore, it pained him. He'd even moved the crib to the living room beside his room. He really should move it into his room. He'd do it later.

He must have spaced out, because when he looked down again, Emma was blinking tiredly, making small hiccups, her cries beginning to cease. He sighed again, this time relieved. "I don't think Monica will have any more disturbances. Sorry, buddy." he managed in a tight voice. Chandler nodded, turning to leave, stopping for a moment. He'd read the suicide note she'd left with him, and knew Joey had had feelings for her.

"Joey?"

"Yeah?"

"...What were you guys?"

Joey bit his lip, beginning to cradle Emma in his arms again as he headed toward the crib, setting her in it. It was a good question. He took some time to think it through as he pulled the soft blanket over the baby, tucking Hugsy next to her. He'd finally given up his pang of jealousy that he had when Emma had Hugsy, giving the stuffed penguin to her full-time. He owed that much to Rachel. He smiled a bit, remembering the time they'd called themselves a "gang". So, naturally, he found his reply there.

"We were the Cobras."


	2. Lights Out

Joey blinked awake, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the blinding light. He started to lift himself up, wondering where he was. _Oh._ He must have blacked out on the couch after he'd put Emma to bed after Chandler had left. He guessed he'd deserved a little rest. She was still sleeping, at least. He wearily sat up, sighing. No longer did he sleep in to noon on a daily basis, he barely got any sleep at all.

No, he took that back. He hadn't gotten any sleep since the funeral, this was the first time he'd actually fallen asleep. He got off the couch, heading over to the crib and peering in. His heart almost stopped beating. She wasn't there. _Fuck_, was his first thought, as he frantically searched the apartment, calling for her. He couldn't find her anywhere.

Finally, he was facing the door frame of Rachel's room. He hadn't been in there since the funeral after he'd hung up her dresses. He swallowed, his throat tightening with immense sadness and stepped into the room. "Emma?" he probed, curiously, but was instead greeted with a terribly sad vibe. His pace was quick, checking anywhere possible before coming up baby-less. The room smelled of her; vanilla. His throat constricted and he couldn't breathe, his eyes felt warm and wet. He shut the door behind him on his way out, immediately fleeing to the bathroom and finding himself retching into the toilet.

Where could she be, though? He was panicking now. He fleetingly cleaned up the mess he'd made, sucking in steady breaths to get himself under control. He headed to his door, crossing the hall and knocking on Monica's apartment. Chandler, of course, opened the door, and to Joey's relief, he was holding Emma in his arms against his hip.

"Oh thank God, I thought she.." he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. Chandler tilted his head, frowning.

"Sorry, man, I didn't mean to give you a scare. I came back to ask if you wanted to go to Monica's for breakfast, but you were out like a light, so I decided to take Emma off your hands for a while." Chandler explained calmly, pausing to add, "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

At the very words, Joey felt himself tearing up again, shaking a bit. It must have been noticeable because Chandler gave him a look that said he didn't have to answer, that he understood. Joey averted his eyes, smelling fresh food. His stomach still felt unsettled from vomiting, but he decided it might worry the couple if he didn't eat something, considering his appetite before all this mess had been the size of an elephant. "Breakfast sounds good." he choked out quietly, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him.

Monica shot him a look of sympathy as he sank into the chair and he felt his chest tighten in a pang of anger, surprising him.

He didn't want sympathy.

He just wanted Rachel back. What was worse, Emma did, too.


	3. Chunky Monkey

Joey went to the store later that week, bringing Emma with him and setting her in the shopping cart. Even though he found himself constantly gloomy in light of Rachel's death, Emma always managed to make him smile a little. Phoebe was helping the gang cope largely, though he hadn't seen all four of them together since the funeral. Probably still shaken up. He'd have to bring Emma into Central Perk one day, since Rachel hadn't taken her there before. She'd barely paid much attention to Emma before she died, had trouble focusing.

So, as he scooted the cart through the store, he showed Emma what he was getting, talking to her in a light, playful tone, smiling a little. He noticed women in the store with their children glaring at him suspiciously, but he ignored it for the most part. They scorned him and they didn't even know why he was here alone without the child's mother. Not his problem.

His cart was extra-full, more so than usual, by the time he got to the freezer food section. Diapers, baby bottles, baby food, baby wipes, everything. Emma was beginning to teethe a bit and had worn out her other baby bottles. It was putting her in extreme pain, and him emotionally. Somewhere along the line, she'd begun to wail in the middle of the store as loud as possible in pain and the other women in the baby section had snapped at him, telling him he wasn't taking care of the child right. It wasn't his fault, really! He couldn't do anything about it.

So, he gave her her pacifier. She'd clung to it steadfast, closing her eyes in happiness, making bubbly sounds.

He walked down the freezer food section, passing by the ice cream. He glanced at Emma. He hoisted her up into his arms, putting her in view of the various flavors. "Hey Emma, what kind of ice cream do we want this week?" he said, grinning. Emma made a chortle of happiness, pointing at the glass. His eyes followed her little fingers to see what she'd pointed at as she squealed with laughter.

"Dat wan!" she managed, with another fit of laughter. Rachel had been absolutely right when she'd been pregnant with Emma. She was learning speech fast and she was only about a year old and a third of age. But when he realized what she was pointing to, the smile fell away from his face.

_Chunky Monkey. Banana ice cream with chocolate chips and walnuts._

Rachel's favorite.

He began to shake, placing Emma back in the cart. "Not that one, okay?" he said in a hushed tone. Emma's eyes began to water, hands reaching out for the bar on the freezer door, making a wail of sadness. Joey began to become desperate, fighting his tears and trying to scold her at the same time. "No, Emma, we're not getting that one."

At this, Emma only cried more. Joey gritted his teeth, trying to make the aching sadness not get the best of him. He sucked in a deep breath, pushing the cart forward for the checkout. Emma wailed again, sniffling and staring down at her small feet and a shaky frown on her face.

When he got home, he gave Emma to Chandler, after apologizing to her over and over, and Chandler seemed to understand and as soon as he shut his apartment door and set the grocery bags down, he slid down the door and burst into tears, sobbing into his hands.

"Damn it, Rachel.." he whispered, shakily. He leaned his head back against the door, head pounding and eyes puffy.

"I don't think I can do this, Rach."


	4. Just Say Yes

However, fortunately, things got better, with time. Wounds healed, but scars stuck. Joey finally got around to pushing the crib into his own room. He was free of Emma for the day; Monica had insisted on taking care of her for the day as practice for when she would be a mother. Monica was a natural mother, had been like that her whole life almost. He was beginning to accept Rachel was gone for good, still sometimes acted like he could talk to her, telling her about his day.

It had been almost three weeks now. He was coping better than the other four expected he would. He'd begun to frame all the pictures of her he could find, placing them around the rooms of the apartments, but still avoiding Rachel's own room, still terrified of it. Really, it was still hard. Finally decided he couldn't be a ladies' man anymore. He wasn't going to have his..daughter see women parading in and out of her life each day. He'd never fall in love again anyway.

So he took advantage of that day when Emma was being babysat. He went to the jeweler, buying a ring with a considerably large diamond on it, and two wedding bands, having one inscribed with, "I love you, Rachel Greene." He had enough funds still coming to him from reruns of shows he'd been on, and not to mention the movie he'd been in, but he refused to get a new apartment. It was Rachel's apartment, too.

When he came home, he went into Rachel's room, which still sickeningly smelled of her and approached her dresser. Her suicide note was neatly tucked into the corner of the mirror there. He reached a hand into his pocket, pulling out the diamond ring and setting it on the dresser, in the middle, and the wedding band right by it. He slipped the other wedding band on his finger. Now he was taken. For good.

"Don't argue with me. You even reciprocated feelings. I'm taking care of your child, that should say something. You've taken this another level without even being here." he bit out in a quiet voice, hand moving over the smooth surface of the mahogany dresser. "Just say yes, okay? Imagine the most beautiful wedding you've ever dreamed of. Make yourself a happy memory."

As he curled his fingers into his hand, he realized the dresser didn't feel completely hollow. He bent over, opening the drawer. A vanilla-scented candle. That appeared to be all. He found a small smile on his face and shook his head. Phoebe had said that when she'd told Rachel she wasn't the type of girl that could just bring a guy home. Just as he was about to close the drawer, he saw a flash of white from the back. Curious, he reached his hand in, searching for it and pulling out a piece of paper from the corner of the drawer.

_Joey,_

_If you've found this, I applaud you. I'm not sure where I'll be when you do find it, and I could never tell you this to your face but..._  
_I love you, too._  
_I'm sorry for hurting you before._  
_Please forgive me._

_And if I never said it and I'm gone now, I hope we could have given it a try, just one more time. I'd get it right this time._

_-Rach_

A smile twitched at Joey's lips. He closed the small letter, gently tucking it beside her suicide note. He closed the drawer slowly and turned to leave. Before he shut the door, he turned around. "Love you, too."


	5. Daddy's Here

A month. Emma's first tooth had come in, and he'd raced down to Central Perk, showing it off to three of his friends, who all grinned and applauded. Ross wasn't there anymore. He and Emily had gotten back together, he heard, and were patching things up. Now that Rachel was gone, he supposed Emily had nothing to be suspicious of. Chandler and Monica were debating the options for children. Phoebe was talking of how she and Mike were doing.

Everyone was doing well, for the most part.

Joey even found himself..happy, now and again. Nobody asked about the wedding ring on his finger, in fact he'd told Chandler of it, so he'd probably informed Phoebe and Monica. Still, as much as he felt better, he still woke up in the middle of the night sometimes before even Emma did and got out of bed to go to the bathroom, but as soon as he stumbled into the living room, memories of he and Rachel crashed upon him violently. He could almost see them playing in front of his eyes. Cujo, the time she'd been four months pregnant, their date, everything, everything.

Those nights he took an aspirin because it gave him a headache and curled up in his armchair, willing them to go away, trembling. He could imagine sometimes the others felt the same way.

Tonight was one of those nights. As he sat in his chair, eyes closed, trying to shake them off, Emma's cry shot through his concentration and he instinctively jumped up and hurried into his room. Emma stared at him from her crib, sucking her thumb a bit. Then, she held her little arms out. She was growing, fast. She ate frequently, too. She was still a tiny little angel, though.

"Dada!" she squealed happily. Emma had begun calling him that not too long ago, accepting him as her dad. Ross was never around, had only really been around the first year, so she probably didn't have much memory of him. Not like the memories she seemed to hold of Rachel, sometimes still bawling out "Mama!" in the way that broke his heart and made him want to cry as well.

And funnily enough, he came to accept it, too. Almost felt like she was his flesh and blood. She almost was. He was very protective of her, to the point now he had trouble giving her off to Monica for a day. Her eyes were still a bright blue, curious of the world.

"Daddy's here." he whispered, leaning in to pick her up. He cradled her carefully. He'd kept all Rachel's books, and they came in handy. He used to hate reading but two weeks after the funeral, he'd finally decided it would make Rach happy if he read up about babies. So he took all the baby books off the shelf, stacked them up, and stayed up extra when Emma fell back asleep to read them or read them when he awoke in the night.

He thought he might be growing fond of this "father" thing. It was..kind of fun. Kind of hurt. He still had trouble getting her to sleep. He rocked her back and forth around the house, bounced her on his knee, made faces, occasionally sang the lullaby Rachel had loved to sing with her beautiful sing-song voice. Eventually, when Emma yawned quietly, in the cutest way, he smiled softly. He was lying on his bed, holding her up in the air and pretending she was in space. He brought her back down to his stomach and she blinked sleepily at him, reaching out.

Before he could react, her arms were around his neck, clinging tightly to him, and she snuggled onto his chest, falling asleep swiftly. Joey's face softened and he rubbed her back, deciding to allow her to stay there.

"Goodnight, Emma." A pause. He looked over to the empty side of his bed.

"Night, Rach. No sleeping pills, you hear?"


	6. May 5

Emma had learned to walk, gotten her second tooth. Joey was overwhelmed with pride for his little angel, lifting her into the air and spinning her around the first time she'd slowly stumbled onto her feet and taken her first step forward. If only Rachel had been there to see it. She had a bundle of brown hair now, also like her mother's. Her blue eyes held an ethereal gleam.

He heard Monica and Chandler were having a surrogate mother for soon-to-be twins. Erica, was her name. The couple were very happy and excited, beaming almost. It had been..two months? Maybe less. Chandler had told Joey earlier in the week how proud he was of him, and how much he'd changed and that he always knew Joey would make the perfect father. He hadn't known how to respond, shying away and continuing to feed Emma the goopy baby food.

He was gradually beginning to feed Emma solid foods. Slow steps at a time, was scared for her. Changed her diapers constantly. Went to the store with her regularly. She still pointed at the Chunky Monkey ice cream and every time he still moved away quickly, feeling a sickeningly vulnerable feeling pulsating in his stomach. Two whole months and he couldn't step foot in Rachel's room much, and half the time he came back out and spent the night retching, sobbing, Chandler at his side.

He was the most affected of them, it seemed. Proved how much he loved her that he'd offered his heart, whole and terrified to her even though..even though she wasn't there to accept it.

At least the vibe in her room had lightened. Ever since he left the rings there, it had become peaceful. He thought maybe it was her way of saying yes and how happy she was. He still found himself talking to her a bit.

He was the one telling Chandler how to care for a baby as he waited for the twins to be born. Two months ago, he would have never dreamed of such a thing. But here he was. Telling him about the proper ways to hold it, feed it, settle its stomach, anything and everything. For once, he felt..smart. Not like the time he'd bought that one encyclopedia on the letter V.

He'd given up watching inappropriate TV shows during the midst of his second month, thrown out all his Playboys. He was making room for the baby, wanted to be the best father he could be. For her.

After all, a promise was a promise.

Just last night, he'd come home from the store with Emma and left a bouquet of white lilies on Rachel's dresser, the same kind he put on her casket at the funeral. It was her birthday today.

Her favorite flowers.

He'd bought the best ones he could find, unable to resist. He'd put them in the fanciest vase she'd left in the cupboard and tied a bow around them, making sure to put them in a spot they'd catch sunlight. He could almost hear her laughing, admiring how beautiful they were. He propped up the card he'd bought against the vase, which simply read:

_Happy birthday, beautiful._  
_How you doin'?_

_Love you,_  
_-Joey_

_P.S. Emma still misses you. I'll be sure to tell her all about you when she's old enough._


	7. Panic

Three months, and Emma gave him the scare of his life. He'd gone into the next room to grab a blanket real quick, and had heard a wail of agony from the next room. She was getting into everything now, and when she wasn't unsteadily walking or crawling, she was trying to climb things. Joey had panicked, racing back into the room, finding she'd somehow managed to crawl her way onto the kitchen counter and accidentally sliced her wrist on one of the kitchen knives. Images raged through his brain of how Rachel's still form had been in her bedroom, a similar kitchen knife through her chest.

All the breath left his lungs and he grabbed Emma, trying to stop the bleeding. He washed the wound as she wailed and wrapped a bandage around her tiny wrist. He held her close, squeezing his eyes shut as she sobbed softly, broken up by tired hiccups. "Shh, shh. I'm sorry. Daddy's so sorry. He won't let it happen again, not again, not ever again." he reassured quietly, voice shaking, and he knew he didn't just mean her accidentally hurt. No, he'd never, ever let something like the stunt Rachel pulled happen again ever.

He kissed her forehead, again and again, singing a sweet lullaby to her, rocking back and forth in the arm chair, body shaking violently. Emma was asleep now, sucking her thumb, eyes puffy and red. He dared not put her in her crib. He was terrified out of his skin. Seething with regret, sadness, anger. It all came back to him and he felt tears slipping down his cheeks as he cradled little Emma in his arms, caressing her bandaged wrist gently.

"Rachel, I.." he started, stammering and stumbling with his words. "I-I don't k-know how you ex-expect me t-to..d-do any of this. I-I don't even k-know how I got..th-this far. A-am I doing good, Rach? A-are you..pr-proud?"

He closed his eyes, standing up and taking Emma back to his room. He reached into her crib, placing her there. She'd be too big for it in a few months.

He got himself a glass of water and an aspirin, seating himself at the kitchen, resting his chin in his hands, contemplating what to do for a moment. A blaze of determination overthrew him and he grabbed the box of kitchen knives, opening the highest cupboard he had and pushing it in there, sitting back down.

He got up, preparing to go to bed now that Emma was sleeping. He might as well. He stopped as he passed Rachel's room on the way back from the bathroom. The scooter Tag had given her was still in her closet at the back, the one he said he didn't like anymore after he childishly got himself hurt. He might let Emma try it one day, he contemplated.

Maybe he'd be like Rachel when he went to go ride the scooter. She'd told him she wasn't his mom but right as he left she yelled out, "Don't go into the street!"

The thought amused him.


	8. Twins

Eight months. Emma was to turn two soon. She walked most of the time now, and her hair was slowly growing longer and getting more layers. She outgrew her crib and slept with him in his bed, still clinging to Hugsy. He still had to carry her when her legs grew tired, but he didn't mind a bit.

She laughed all the time. To her, everything was funny. Most of the time, anyway. It was..strange. How fast time flew. He remembered like just the other day Rachel had been asleep in her bed and he got up at the crack of dawn to cradle a crying Emma in his arms, and his worry for Rachel had increased. Now, soon, she'd be going to school in another year or two. He feared that.

He didn't want her to grow up, he realized.

He taught her new words each day, and she explored the house a lot. Sometimes she still asked about her mom, even now. Today was different though. Erica had given birth to the twins today so he took Emma down to the hospital as fast as he could. They'd taken their time though, and he'd pointed out various things in the city and they exchanged smiles.

Now, in the waiting room, Chandler burst out, beaming. "It's a boy and a girl." he said, smiling widely. Joey gave him a thumbs up. "That's great, man. I'm proud of you." Joey replied, Emma sitting in his lap. He leaned in toward Emma.

"Guess what, Emma? You're going to have two cousins." he said. "Wanna go see them?"

Emma's face lit up. She gave a wide smile, four teeth in now. "Yeah, let's go, let's go!" she said, words still a bit jumbled, sounding excited. Joey grinned in return, hoisting Emma up onto his shoulders. "Spaceship's taking off. We're going into space, whoosh!" he said, racing off down the halls toward the nursery, being careful of other patients, not noticing Chandler watching after him proudly.

He'd certainly come a long way in just half a year. Everything still hurt, didn't want to talk about Rachel much, but wore his wedding ring proudly. Girls would approach him, but he no longer felt the temptation to flirt with them. Instead, if they tried to flirt with him, he showed them the ring and turned away, walking off with Emma. "Look, we're here." he said, lifting Emma over his head and holding her up so she could look into the window, crouching down.

"See those two tiny ones in the faaaar corner? Those are your cousins, Emma."

Emma laughed, clapping, pressing her face to the glass. She looked back at him, moving her hands in an attempt to try to express what she wanted to say, forgetting the words. "Yeah, they're tiny. They're not as old as you. You're big and strong!" he said, grinning, and kissing her cheek, tickling her. She burst into a fit of laughter.

He froze when he heard footsteps behind him. "Hey, Joe."

That voice..

He picked up Emma, turning around slowly. "Ross..?" Yes, it was him. He noticed Emily beside him, and an engagement ring on her finger. He mentally rolled his eyes. Getting married, again. Of course. He tossed Emma into the air once, catching her as she squealed happily, holding her tighter as a way of saying "I'm her father now". Ross didn't seem to notice.

"I take it that's Emma?"

"Yes."

They didn't say much after that, not much to talk about, he supposed. Things were different between them now, strained.

At the end of the visit, Joey had never been more relieved to get away from Ross. He'd certainly changed. The guy who used to be so intense on fathering children didn't even care about his own flesh and blood. It made him boil with anger.

That night after Emma was asleep, he paced in front of Rachel's door, cursing and talking to her, telling her how angry it made him. He could see Rachel's eyes brimming with tears at how much he cared.

When hadn't he cared, though?


	9. Sleepless Night

Ten months. Emma was two. He got an invitation to Ross' wedding. He considered attending, but Emma had never been on a plane before and he didn't want to blow out her eardrums at the take-off and he still felt a lingering anger toward Ross. The invitation went in the trash. He told Phoebe to wish him well though, and joked about if it would work this time or he'd be back in the Divorce Force club.

Phoebe was pregnant again, too. With her own kid this time. Everyone was having kids, it seemed. Well, technically his wasn't his but to him she was. He was beyond happy for her. He'd hugged her, smiling and rubbing her back. Emma was becoming more and more curious about her mother, spotting pictures of her all over the house.

He was protective. Maybe overly so. Every morning he got up to make breakfast and she tiredly toddled out of his room, he made sure to dance around for her and act silly, causing her to giggle as she ran over for a hug. He always lifted her up and spun her around before sitting her on the chair in front of the counter. He'd become a good cook over time, with Monica's help. He had to provide something not right out of the microwave for the child _sometimes_.

Emma went across the hall occasionally to see the twins, and she was careful with them. She couldn't support holding them though, so he helped her. She was surprisingly mature for a two year old, with the development of a three year old, the mentality of one, too, which shocked doctors. From what her pediatrician said, though, she would only be as tall as her mother. Which was a relief.

He took her to Central Perk often to see the gang, except Ross was in London, so it was just the other three. The group was growing smaller and smaller, it had seemed. It still wasn't the same without Ross and Rachel, but they grew used to it. Gunther still worked there, though, surprisingly. He noticed Rachel's ongoing disappearance but they all assumed he'd read of it in the paper. They all joked how he would have been heartbroken and if she had survived, how Joey would have given him a piece of his mind if he tried to get close to her after such a thing.

Emma liked to watch shows like Dora and the PBS channel. He'd found himself faintly interested in the shows and watched them with her on his lap. Her hair was still quickly growing, and he assumed it would be down to shoulder-length when she was three. It was..slightly curly. Still soft, and only had about three layers. He liked to tease her by ruffling her hair and she squealed that he'd messed it up, to which is pretended to pout and apologize.

At the end of the day, he was still as exhausted as when she was a year old. He had to get up in the middle of the night for a different reason now. She'd wake him up and be squirming where she was sitting a wail that she had to go, right now. He'd jump up each time and race to the bathroom, helping teach her how to use a smaller toilet for toddlers. It disgusted him at first, but he got used to it. He also found the prospect of having to teach her such a thing awkward, but he grew accustomed to that, too.

Sometimes he still needed an aspirin or had a sleepless night. Still stayed away from Rachel's room unless it was a special occasion, although the retching incidents had lessened to every other time. Chandler still ended up at his side. He still sobbed sometimes, it still hurt so bad. Still felt like his heart had been ripped out, but something must still be there the way he took care of Emma and loved her so.

That night, she shook him out of his sleep, and he groaned, half-opening his eyes. "What is it, jelly bean?"

"I can't sleep."

Oh. This was a first. He shifted, blinking at her through the dark. "What's up?"

"I was w..one-dur-ing..."

"Wondering what?" he probed softly, eyebrows knitting together.

Emma squirmed closer. "Can you tell me something about Mommy?" she said quietly, pausing. "Just..one thing."

Joey paused, considering the prospect. He really didn't want to talk about Rachel still, but the way she said it melted his heart. She was patient as the silence went on for a few moments. His mouth opened in the darkness, and he whispered his words in a shaking voice.

"She was vanilla...and she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and when she laughed, it was like an angel had fallen from Heaven."


	10. Dreams

A year. He visited her grave with Emma. She didn't understand death still, so he didn't tell her. Didn't tell her the name on the grave was her mother, didn't tell her she was dead, just said her mother couldn't come see them right now. Luckily, she never asked why. He'd tell her soon, some day when she understood. He left white lilies on her grave and some roses from Monica and Chandler, who had to take the twins to the doctor.

It was hard day for him. Phoebe offered to take care of Emma for the rest of the day until tomorrow, her baby bump faintly visible, and for once he accepted. He just wanted to be alone. Sat down in his apartment, opened the first beer he'd ever had since she died. Only had one. Stared at the blank TV, remembering when they watched Cujo.

He stiffly opened the door to her room, leaning against the door frame, welcoming the smell of vanilla for once in a long time. He had taken an aspirin earlier, but his headache was back. He shut the door behind him, glancing around the room. Everything was where he left it, as always. There wasn't a vase of the dresser anymore, of course.

He sat down on her bed. His stomach was in turmoil again, but he kept himself from retching everywhere. Instead, he fell back onto the bed, surrounded by the scent of her skin now, a more personal smell than the lingering vanilla. He felt like he was suffocating again, but he closed his eyes, breathing in deeply and drifting off to sleep.

Surprisingly, it was the best sleep he'd had in a very long time.

And the best part was he dreamed of her. Happy, smiling, laughing, blue eyes lit up. Of the time they danced in the rain, when she'd first reciprocated his feelings. Subconsciously, he felt like she was beside him.

And maybe she was. Just for a little while.

Before he awoke back in the real world, she gave him another beautiful smile and told him, "I'm so proud of you. I knew you'd be a great father. I love you, sweetie."


	11. Anniversary

A year and one month. Their "anniversary". He got her a bundle of red roses and a card. Emma was still growing, and he made sure to have fun with her. She had almost all her baby teeth in now. She loved to eat the Chunky Monkey ice cream, which he had reluctantly begun to buy for her, though it still troubled him from the haunting memories of how skinny she'd been eating it.

Emma liked to have her hair fixed, much like Rachel. Put in a bun, ponytail, anything. Phoebe came over and helped with it sometimes, but most of the time he did it himself. He had grown more calm and focused than before, his attention span long enough he actually boredly listened to Chandler rambling about numbers occasionally. His friends were usually busy now, but sometimes got together.

He found himself busy a lot, too. He had to take Emma to various appointments, feed her, go shopping, buy her new clothes, etc. She still woke him up at night having to go to the bathroom but knew how to do it herself, so he just hung around by the doorway. An overwhelming sense of pride still ran through him, growing each day. She still called him "Daddy" and it felt like she was his child. She _ate_ like a Tribbiani.

It was getting harder for him not to spill the beans when it came to her mother though. The nights were getting harder again since the anniversary of her death, and he found himself up at night more, restless, and crying more often again. Trembling at anything that was her favorite. Anything. One night she'd stumbled upon him in the act, and she'd been frantic, desperately asking him what was wrong. He'd shaken his head so she had run to get Chandler, who hurried over, a sympathetic look in his eye.

Joey had been too entranced by his memories to hear what he told her, but it quieted her down and he took her back to Monica's apartment and woke Monica, returning to his best friend's side when he was done. Immediately when Chandler returned, he'd retched all over himself, the intensity of his crying beginning to make him sick. He retched six more times that night, and his eyes are swelled with puffiness and red, with a mixture of darkness from sleepless night that had returned.

Chandler was concerned, but Joey brushed it off. He could fight through this, he would do it. For Rachel and Emma. He wasn't going to give up. He could beat it, he could win. It was just..really exhausting and really hard. Like an impossible game. He told Emma if he ever did that again, she was to go get Chandler right away and stay with Monica, and he'd explain everything when she was older. She simply nodded, big blue eyes sad.

He gave her a hug and kiss after that, and they fell asleep on his bed together as usual. He held her in her sleep, to ward away the nightmares she sometimes had. The way she described it sounded like it was a vague memory of when Rachel had committed suicide. She'd wake up panting and squirming and sometimes cry herself but he comforted her the best he could.

She called him the best dad ever.

He knew he wasn't, but he tried.

He'd come a long way, and he didn't want to stop there. He wanted to be there for her throughout her life until it was his time to go. He had a way to go before that.

He'd turned 34 recently. He didn't make an immature scene about it anymore, still joked about his "deals" with God, though. He'd grown up very much. He was sometimes a shadow of himself according to Chandler, but Chandler still insisted he was an amazing father, even a natural. Joey just smiled.

It was all thanks to Rachel.

But still, here he was.

Doing everything Rachel should be doing.


	12. Turning 34

A year and two months. What would have been Rachel's 34th birthday. He brought home a wedding dress, her favorite one she'd seen when Monica had tried dresses on, sheepishly telling her as he hung it up in the closet in an apologetic tone that he'd forgotten to get her a wedding dress for their "wedding", it seemed. He smiled to himself as he left the room. He didn't retch this time.

Monica and Chandler were planning on moving to Westchester soon, and boxes upon boxes covered their apartment. It was going to feel weird, not having a buddy to run to just across the hall. Saddened him. They'd still meet up in Central Perk though, Chandler reassured. Joey had simply smiled, not replying. Didn't have anything to say. Oh well.

Phoebe was four months along, her baby bump now fully visible. Joey had leaned down once, saying hello to the bump, entertaining her. Emma was in awe she would have another cousin, and she was growing every day, looking more and more like Rachel. "You're so pretty." he would tell her as he fixed her hair every morning. In eight months, she'd be three. Boy, time flew by.

This time for her birthday, he bought white roses, as a symbol of everlasting love. And it was true. For a guy like him to go a year without sex, let alone a month, was an achievement to be reckoned with, or so Chandler had joked. He hadn't heard from Ross in months; they'd simply stopped talking to each other. He was almost sure if they did anyway, he'd have torn Ross' head off.

Since Chandler had declared they were moving, he'd considered it himself, but realized he couldn't tear himself away from this place, no matter how hard he tried. So what? It was a two bedroom apartment, he could make it work. Could've made it work if Rachel was alive, too. The thought sent a sad feeling through him. They could be sleeping in his room while Emma had the vanilla-scented room to herself when she was weaned from sleeping with her parents, but instead it was just him.

He had to do everything himself.

He'd done it for over a year now, he'd keep at it. He still wasn't too good at it in his opinion, but defied the odds at how quickly he'd matured.

He picked up hobbies along the way. He'd turned to Rachel's bookshelf by the TV, finding himself reading any of the books she had. He was barely done the first row, but he took a liking to it. However, when he found a copy of The Shining and Little Women side by side, he'd frozen, retracting his shaking hands as if he'd been burned.

He removed them from the shelf later and slipped them in the mahogany dresser's drawer in Rachel's room, along with Cujo. Too many memories. Too much for him.

He saw Emma playing with her toys out of the corner of his eye, and smiled faintly.

Salt might rub scars raw, but the little piece of her he still had made him smile.


	13. Sticky Notes

Two years, two months. Rachel's 35th birthday.

Emma was three, nearing four. She'd start school soon. It had been two whole years. He still couldn't believe Rachel was gone. Monica and Chandler moved out eleven months ago. Phoebe had her baby five months ago and moved into a house with Mike across the street from Chandler.

Joey still lived in the same apartment with Emma. Had finally gotten around to telling her about her mother shortly after she turned three and had been heartbroken when she cried for the rest of the day until she fell asleep.

He was slowly weaning her from sleeping with him. He would leave her in the middle of the night, stumbling out of his room into Rachel's. The retching feeling barely came around anymore, vanilla intoxicating him as he fell asleep on her soft, red satin sheets. God, how he missed her. At first, Emma had come into Rachel's room, confused since she had never been there before, waking him up, wailing when he told her to go back to his room and sleep.

She didn't understand. He wasn't good at breaking it to her, didn't like to see her cry, but he couldn't have her wrapped around his finger like this or she'd have major issues later in life. He eventually got her to the point she slept alone in his room, so Rachel's was mostly his own now, though he went back and forth for clothes. She still slept with Hugsy. He had become okay with it.

On sleepless nights now he would stare up at her ceiling, just talking as if she was there and listening, asking questions but knowing no response would come. Occasionally he still felt her presence. For her birthday this year, he lit one of her vanilla candles and read part of Little Women, commenting on how she was right that one of the sisters had died, sniffing a bit, still becoming a little emotional.

Time had gone by oh so fast. He found that vanilla perfume she'd lost under her dresser, the one he'd bought her for a birthday when she turned 31, causing her to smile and hug him tightly. He remembered kissing her on New Year's once. Now, the last two New Year's, he would watch the tape Monica had made of it, finding a smile on his face.

He left little notes for her around her room. Sticky notes. On the walls, her mirror, her closet door. Little hearts, I love yous, what he thought of her. Anything he could think of when it crossed his mind.

Really, he still didn't know how he was doing this. Being a father.

But he loved Emma so much.


	14. School

Two years, eleven months, and Emma started school, now four years old. He was terrified for her, praying she wouldn't be bullied for being motherless and small. She was fragile with her feelings, too, just like Rachel. Cried easily. Loved shopping, though. He met her teacher, warily saying hello and introducing himself, admitting he wasn't used to this, wasn't cut out for it.

The teacher assured him he would be fine and Emma would be well cared for. Joey put on a wry smile and decided to believe her. Surprising himself as always, he kept loyal to his wedding ring. Of course, if it had been real, he would never, ever in his entire life dream of looking at another woman like that again besides her, same as now. He guessed fate ended up the same in a way.

This fate was so much gloomier and lonelier, though.

He had no one to share his nights the way he wanted to, able to tell everything. He didn't get to see his friends much anymore, still lived off his money from the shows and the movies, couldn't act because he had a kid to take care of. He couldn't tell Emma about all these things because she wouldn't understand and it was..personal, kind of. Something a child shouldn't be bearing.

He fixed her hair before school each day and she made him go shopping for more clothes, pretty dresses for four-year olds this time.

She picked a lavender dress that looked much like the one Rachel had been wearing when they danced in the rain, which was still hanging in the closet, the matching heels underneath it on the floor.

Even now, nostalgic memories always found a way to tear at his already-broken heartstrings and sting the scars. After his job was done as a parent, though, reuniting would be well worth it.


	15. The Truth

Three years. Emma and he sleep separate now. Recently, though, her nightmares are becoming constant. She comes into Rachel's room almost every night, waking him up to tell him she had a nightmare. Most nights he consoles her and sends her back to bed, telling her she has school tomorrow. Some nights he gives in and let her stay and talk to him until she falls asleep. Then, he carries her back to his room and tucks her in bed beside Hugsy.

He knows how it feels. Only his nightmares are worse and progressively worsening. He takes an aspirin once a night for his constant headaches, which he thinks nothing of, even though Chandler pointed out they started after Rachel died. He doesn't say anything after that time, so Joey continues to brush it off and avoid the issue.

Once in a while he sneaks out at night to rest in his armchair and watch the TV, like he used to on sleepless nights. Luckily, Emma sleeps through such a thing. It's funny, only three years ago this month he was walking around in the middle of the night, humming and talking to a tiny little baby. She's getting bigger every second of every day, she goes to school, he doesn't have to cradle her anymore, doesn't have to put her in her crib. He is surprised to find he kind of misses that.

He doesn't know what to do with her crib either. He doesn't know that he wants to do anything with it, on top of that. So he moves it back to Rachel's room in the corner, where it belongs, but there's no Emma sleeping in it anymore, and no Rachel beside it. Instead, he is the one sleeping by it.

He still hasn't gone back to acting, and figures he won't ever again because by the time Emma leaves him, he will be too old. He configures he'll be about 50. He is 36 as of now. He doesn't look like he used to. Well, he still looks like Joey Tribbiani, it's just..under his eyes is dark like Rachel before she killed herself, but his face isn't pale and his dark eyes are bright. He looks tired, stressed.

Not that there's anything anyone can do about it. It was inevitable, he decides. He finds sleeping in Rachel's room to be not so bad. Maybe he'll continue to do so even after Emma moves out. He doesn't know. He still spends his nights reading when he is kept awake, and he even reads The Shining again. He doesn't put it in the freezer this time. He finds he's been scared stiff more than this.

Emma has made friends in school. It pleases him. She likes to color and draw, so he buys he a bunch of coloring books. Unsurprisingly, her favorites are princesses and dresses. It makes him smile.

They visit Rachel's grave for the third time. This time, Emma understands. She is silent, and takes one of the flowers out of his hand and sinks down to the ground, disregarding her dress, and places it at the foot of the grave. He feels himself fighting tears. She doesn't say a word when they leave, but later she asks if her mother didn't want her. He panics and tells her no, scolding her, telling her Rachel could have never not wanted her.

The only thing he can think of to explain it is by telling her her mother didn't know what was wrong and couldn't get better. So, he tells her, "Mommy was very sick. She didn't get better."

She wouldn't understand the prospect of suicide yet. When she was old enough, the story would click to her, and he wouldn't even have to tell her the truth. She was very bright, could figure it out for herself.

He is so upset he sleeps soundly through the night, curled up under Rachel's smooth, red covers.


	16. Tear it Down

Three years, six months. Emma falls ill with a severe fever. He freaks out, and treats her the best he can. Fortunately, Rachel had been ill before so he knows exactly how to care for her. When she falls asleep, he kisses her forehead and says goodnight. She will be five in four months. Chandler and Monica's twins will be going to school in about a year or so.

Ross has lost contact with everyone now. Chandler says last he heard he was living happily married to Emily, and they were expecting a child. Joey swallows his anger and looks the other way. Chandler takes the hint. He has done well in advertising the past few years, and Monica is a successful chef. Phoebe's child was getting big and she was busy, Mike helping her care for it. She sang at a local church.

It is around this time he realizes what he is doing is not healthy. Talking to a deceased woman, buying her flowers and cards and taping sticky notes to the wall, keeping the crib, putting her pictures all over the house. Chandler reassures him it is normal, even encourages him to keep talking to her. But deep down, he doesn't feel like it's normal. At least taking an aspirin came down to once or twice a week.

He tears down all the sticky notes off the wall, and as he does, he can see Rachel frowning, protesting that she liked them there, and he starts to sob and shake as he does so, tears blurring his eyes. He is glad Emma is at school right now. He stacks up the cards he gave her and puts them in the drawer, but keeps her notes in the corners of the mirror, and the rings in the middle of the dresser. He closes her closet door, forces himself to lock it.

He takes the Little Women book with the intention to burn it, but he stops when he remembers her saying it was one of her favorite books. He can't do that to her. As he is heading toward the crib to remove it from the room, he trips over something and crashes into the ground. He finds the book he read to Emma lying on the floor, My Baby You'll Be, and he sighs and places the book in the crib and backs off, telling Rachel she wins. He can see her smirking with pride.

He puts all her pictures face-down. But Emma comes home and props them all up again, to his surprise. She hums the lullaby Rachel used to sing to her, in which he had begun singing her, too. He feels guilty about his silent outburst now. When she is done, she turns to him, smiling softly. "Mommy should still be a part of the family."

He is shaken by her words. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and just rests a hand on her head, ruffling her hair, to which she protests and squirms away.

The next morning, he finds the wilted white lilies he bought a couple weeks ago have sprung back to life.


	17. Contemplate

Five years. Emma is six. Monica is pregnant with her own child, to everyone's amazement. Still no word from Ross. Phoebe became very ill and had to move farther away to a warmer place, specifically Florida. He feels bad for her.

Emma started being bullied in school, kicked around on the playground, taunted every day she got picked up for not having a mother. Joey had become considerably protective and scolded them, but from the look in her eyes, it didn't help. He was back to taking an aspirin a day, asking Rachel what he should do.

She never answered, though. Nothing he could do. She told her teachers, but it didn't help. He knew Rachel would be the parent ready to beat someone up, but even though he was angry, he never felt like she had. Maybe because he was a father, not a mother. He shouldn't even be doing this.

For the most part, everything else goes on as normal. Emma is starting to need help with her schoolwork, but he has trouble with even simple math, so when it comes to that, he takes her to Chandler. Chandler is good with boring old numbers. The group is down to three. Phoebe visits occasionally, but she can't stay long, too cold for her now.

He remembers the day she got married to Mike in the snow and she wasn't too terribly cold. Now she can't even stand in forty degree weather on a sunny day in New York. Who knew their strong, hardened-by-the-streets friend would come to this?

He begins to contemplate what he's going to do when Emma is gone. What there will be to do. He doesn't suppose he'll be doing much. He guesses he'll be spending most of his days at the apartment or helping Chandler. He finds himself fearing Chandler and Monica will eventually leave him, too.

It makes him cry.

How did everything go so wrong?

He still hadn't adjusted to Rachel not being there by his side, regretted Emma didn't have a mother to help her, that would connect to her more. He tried, but he was a Tribbiani, not a Greene. She still shared his love of food, at least. He made her proud.

She was still interested in fashion. He wondered if she would pursue a career similar to Rachel's. Six years old and she was already a lovely little lady. The ladies in the store no longer glared at him when he walked down the aisles with her; he assumed they thought his wife was working, since they seemed to notice his wedding ring.

Emma had begun clamoring for a pet, specifically a dog. He remembered getting a dog for Rachel once, bringing it in before she left for work. She'd been in awe, petting it and telling him goodbye, and he sat there on the floor as the dog crawled into his lap, thinking.

He didn't know if he was ready to have a dog.


	18. A Dog

Six years. He gave Emma a dog for her seventh birthday, somehow managing to come to terms just like he had with the lavender dress and the Chunky Monkey ice cream. Monica had her child, a baby girl, and Chandler beamed with pride. Ross visited. He warily noticed the ring on Joey's finger and dared to ask who the "lucky lady" was.

Joey bravely replied it was Rachel. Ross gave him a strange look, but Chandler changed the subject as they all sat in Central Perk. Phoebe had flown in, too, glad to have a chance to see Ross. Emily had stayed in London. Emma was at school, but had gotten to meet Ross for the second time since the funeral and the visit to the nursery earlier in the morning.

Before they had left, Ross had gotten into an argument over how silly it was of Joey to do that, and how there was so much history. Joey defended himself, saying Rachel was gone now and he was married to Emily, it shouldn't be on his mind, finally getting it off his chest after all these years of how he hadn't cared enough for Emma. Ross said nothing more to him, just saying goodbye and left.

He had been shaking with anger and Chandler consoled him before he and Monica had to go to the doctor for all three of their kids. He had taken a walk through the city, glancing at the store windows. It was a gloomy, rainy day. Reminded him of when he and Rachel danced in the rain, as always. He bit his lip when he passed by the music store they'd danced in front of.

Emma had stopped being bullied, to his relief. She wasn't plagued by nightmares anymore, thank God. The same could not be said for himself. They were always there.

There were good nights, though. Nights where he actually had a good dream or just a black void of emptiness. He still felt lonely.

He and Chandler met up normally once a day, and he came over to Monica's house for breakfast once in a while, admiring how big it was. It was everything Monica and Chandler had ever dreamed of in a house. Monica had apparently given up on the dream of having a dog after Joey had gotten one, because he heard the jingling of a bell and saw a flash of small, orange stripes run by.

So, Monica didn't win all the time, after all, it seemed. When he'd pointed that out, Monica's defended herself immediately, shoving the rest of the laundry into the washing machine, while a grin appeared on his face at her stuttering words. He congratulated Chandler for winning for once and Chandler laughed and hugged him.

Emma was a straight-A student, though she still required Chandler's help for math. Every time she brought home a report card, Joey grinned and spun her around, telling her how smart she was and giving her a bowl of Chunky Monkey as the dog came to greet her.

He took the dog for a walk now and again.

It was then he realized he missed the dog he got for Rachel.


	19. Forgiveness

Eight years and Emma turned nine. She was getting taller, and she had nice, long hair. He had to take her for haircuts frequently because her bangs grew outrageously fast. Chandler and Monica had their hands full with their kids. The memories of Rachel haunted him and he had to get out of the house more. Emma sometimes walked the dog herself.

He began to give her an allowance. Just a small one for cleaning the house each week. She was proud of herself. She made sure to keep the pictures of Rachel extra-clean. It made him smile. She cleaned them until the glass frames sparkled in the sunlight.

The smell of Rachel's room began to suffocate him again. The vanilla was too strong even though he didn't spray her perfume or light her candles. Sleeping in her bed was Hell now. So he resorted to sleeping on the floor, beside Emma's crib, but that just made things worse. Soon, he began to sleep in his armchair.

Emma worried for him, he knew, but he brushed it off, said it was nothing. His headaches were worse than usual so he had gone back to an aspirin each night. He didn't watch TV in his armchair at night anymore, just sat there with it propped up and leaned back, closing his eyes.

He had received a phone call from Mike, as had Chandler and Monica, several weeks ago that Phoebe was in critical health in the hospital. He worried for her day and night. Phoebe was one of his closest friends. So, when he got the phone call earlier that day, the same day Rachel's funeral had been, he had sobbed into his hands and gone to Chandler's house.

They were all three devastated. They made a phone call to Ross to tell him, who seemed to lose footing on his words and hung up soon after. He said he would fly out for her funeral.

Joey found he had trouble breaking the news to Emma. Emma had loved Aunt Phoebe, called her quirky and funny. Everybody was devastated. He is 41 by now. Rachel would have turned 41 in the upcoming two months. As he sits awake in her room that night, he tells her about Phoebe and asks her if she already knew and got to see her again after so long.

He starts to cry more as he talks to the empty walls of the vanilla-smelling room and the old all-too-familiar retching feeling rises in his stomach, raising his voice and straining it just above a whisper, asking her why she would leave him alone like this, why she couldn't try to end her suffering some other way. Somewhere along the line he cracks, anger flaring in him, asking her why she can't just let him be.

After that he leaves the room just before retching everywhere. He calls Chandler, who sounds tired, but concern rises in his voice when he tells him what happened. He rushes over and spends the rest of the night with him, assuring him Monica said it was okay, as to not make him feel guilty.

But he feels guilty anyway.

He can just see that he would have hurt Rachel's feelings.

He shakily apologizes a week after when he has the strength to step into her room again and leaves her double the flowers.

He thinks she forgives him.


	20. Outburst

Ten years, four months, another tragedy strikes. Monica's surrogate daughter Erica, named after the mother, was hit by a car while running across the street after her brother while Chandler was caring for the youngest daughter. She died immediately on contact. Joey was shocked. Of course, his daughter had never run in the street because he'd been exactly like Rachel when he'd given her the scooter.

"Don't go out in the street!"

"Okay, Dad!"

Emma took it harder than he'd expected. She was closer to her cousin than he'd realized. She stayed the night at her friend's while he spent the night with Chandler, consoling him as he'd done for him for so many years when he'd retched, sobbed until his body ached from shaking, and had been overwhelmed with a depressing lack of sleep. He really felt sorry for the guy. He'd come to terms with commitment and kids, and this was what he got in return.

He guessed he'd paid a price himself. He'd loved when he thought he never could and lost her to a depression she couldn't beat in return and it hurt him to see her gorgeous blue eyes turn a haunting gray from sleeping pills, the light darkness under her eyes turn black and her face go pale.

Chandler was stronger than him at handling such a thing. He and Monica pulled through it together and continued caring for their other two children. Emma was oddly quiet for the next week until he made her spill the beans and he let her cry in his arms, kissing her forehead.

He wondered if this made him a bad father. He was trying to be supportive with Emma through this, but he didn't know what to say. Not like with Chandler or..or Monica. He let himself give in to her for the rest of the week and joined her in his own bed, sleeping beside her to comfort her. At the end of the week, she gave him the green and he returned to Rachel's room.

He feels even worse when he has to have Emma's dog put down five months later, a month shy of her birthday.

"I'm sorry, Emma, he's too sick-"

"Daddy, we can't! You can't do this!"

"Emma, you have to listen to me, you don't want him living in-"

"Is this what you did to Mom? You just let her die, didn't you?"

Hurt flashed across his face and his hands trembled. His voice fell. "No, that's not true, Emma." he said firmly. Emma glared at him through puffy eyes and turned away as the vet prepared to inject the dog.

Chandler offered to take Emma for the night when he heard about it. He reluctantly accepted. Emma was mad at him, and he didn't know how to make up for it. Maybe Chandler could talk to her.

He curled up in his own bed that night instead of Rachel's room.

The times he needed her the most, she still wasn't there.


	21. Reminisce

Eleven years. They put the dog down three months ago. Emma is twelve. She'll be going into high school not far from now. And it still seems like just yesterday he carefully, quietly went into Rachel's room and took Emma out of her crib, not knowing that Rachel knew about him doing this as she took her sleeping pills. Eleven long, depressing years since the funeral and things just got harder.

He may have quickly grown up in a panic, but not the way he should have. He had a bleak intake on life since Rachel died, and Chandler said the spark in his eyes never looked the same. Loss of love ruined the former childish eagerness in them. He no longer loved food like he used to, and feeling lonely didn't help.

Emma requested to begin sleeping in Rachel's room. He wasn't sure if he should allow it, but with much hesitation he accepted, putting the rings away in the dresser's drawer and pushing the dresses farther into the closet and maneuvering the lavender pair of heels after them. She never asked about them, she knew it was hard for him to talk about. She sometimes said he looked tired, but he just smiled at her.

He wasn't as talkative as he once was. He didn't have much to say now unless he was talking to Chandler, who hadn't been the same since his oldest daughter died. Mike wasn't the same since Phoebe died, either, taking care of her child alone. But Phoebe's child was at least a few years old now, it wasn't like his situation. It wasn't Phoebe's decision to die, and her child wasn't a baby, so he wasn't doing everything Phoebe should have been.

Still, it must be hard, and he somewhat understood. He still missed Rachel. He had begun putting sticky notes in Rachel's room again, but Emma surprisingly left them alone. She told him they were sweet. She didn't dig through the dresser, left it untouched, even the notes on the corners. She said she didn't want to read them, and he understood that, too.

He tossed and turned in his bed at night. He threw the covers off, he would wake upside down, anything. He had so much trouble sleeping lately. Emma still had Hugsy, adored him. He was proud of that.

He had finally finished reading all the books from Rachel's bookshelf. He felt a pang of sadness when he realized it. Her books had been surprisingly very interesting. He even got a little teary-eyed at some like Little Women. Sometimes he'd approach Rachel's door on sleepless nights, and it would still be open on occasion. He'd hang around the door, watching Emma sleep for a moment before turning away.

He sat down in his armchair on those nights and curled up in it as Rachel had done so many times, though she had been much smaller, more fragile. He usually fell asleep there eventually, and sometimes he thought he could faintly smell her scent lingering on the chair from the last day she had sat there waiting for him to return from the store.

The last day he'd seen her alive.


	22. Tragedy

Twelve years. Emma is thirteen. He is forty-five. This is the year everything turned bleaker and bleaker. He had gotten a phone call months earlier revealing his mother, Gloria, had passed away. He cried himself to sleep that night, but luckily for him, Chandler had taken Emma in for the night. He could see a bit of the old Chandler coming back, and he knew it was because of Monica and his two other children.

Oddly enough, it even stormed that night.

He made a terrible decision afterward. Struggling to cope, he'd begun drinking again. It wasn't good. Chandler eventually took Emma more often, simply explaining Joey needed time alone. He didn't think she believed it, from the look in her eyes. It pained him a bit to do this to her, but he didn't know what to do.

He could already imagine what Rachel would do; be angry at him for treating Emma like this. But he knew what she'd really do. She'd be concerned, worried out of her mind for him, asking him why, why he was doing this and he could just see how everything would play out in his head.

Maybe he was going crazy.

Maybe he just missed her so damn much still yet.

_Joey, sweetheart, why are you doing this?_

A sob bubbled up in his throat and he cradled his face in his hands. He knew if she were here she'd be babying him constantly, making sure he got better, and if he said he was better, she'd probe him to talk about it.

_This isn't how you should be dealing with this._

He tells her he knows, he knows, but the aching in his heart doesn't cease as he pops off the cap to one of his bottles, shifting uncomfortably, wiping his eyes, sniffling. In the past week, her voice in his head has gotten louder and louder, to the point that when it comes around, it's the only thing he can focus on. He wonders if she's really reaching out to him, or it's just him feeling lonely again. He guesses he will never know or have to wait to find out.

It doesn't matter, anyway. Regardless of if she is reaching out, he's still going to look completely insane. He runs a hand through his hair as he sits against her closed bedroom door. He knows he needs to pull his act together. He has a teenage daughter to take care of, and he can tell her attitude is beginning to set in, and knows she will have no sympathy for him if he doesn't pay attention to her soon. This is the stage she is most likely to be set to thinking he's trying to get rid of her, hates her.

The thing is, he doesn't. He doesn't want her to see him like this. So worn down, tired, not to mention drunk and talking to the mother she never knew. He tells Rachel to leave him be, he's fine, he can do this himself, but he knows there's no way in Hell she'd leave him be when he's like this. Cares too much. Maybe that's something that makes him feel...a little less lonely inside.

He can't believe it's been twelve years she's been gone and she's still hanging around, watching him and her daughter. Whether or not it's all one big hallucination, he can still hear the honeycomb sweetness in her voice, a gentle tone, and he can still hear the edge of irritation when he's too stubborn to take her advice, can still imagine how she'd act if he said something to piss her off.

A smile twitches at his lips, but he can't make it last like he used to. Instead, he looks down at the bottle bleakly, finding suddenly he doesn't really want it. He pulls himself unsteadily to his feet and finds the nearest trashcan, and discards it with a pile of empty bottles. He pulls the trash-bag out of the bin, tying it and leaving it by his apartment door. He'll take it out in the morning. It's much too late now, he'd cause an uproar.

A lovely couple with a kid moved into the apartment across from his. It's still weird not seeing Monica and Chandler every time their door opens. He remembers how Rachel used to live there too, and came to his apartment after Phoebe's burned down, and it makes him frown. He flicks off the light in the kitchen and pauses, pressing his hands to the counter.

He wonders, hopes it's real when he feels a familiar pair of arms wrap around him and hug him, comfortingly, but it's missing the familiar heartbeat to match.

He is almost positive it is real when a wafting, sweet fragrance of vanilla begins to soothe his tense muscles and tired mind.


	23. Getting Older

Thirteen years. He won the fight against the alcohol and the misery and the hole in his heart after he lost his mother. Surprisingly, he finds, the hole was not as big as the gaping one he still feels when he realizes Rachel is gone time and time again. Emma is doing well in school, and she is a Freshman now in high school. Soon, he wearily thinks to himself, she will be in college. He is slowly losing her.

She's still very sweet, though she can be moody now. She doesn't seem to appear interested in dating, but once in a while she'll come home and tell him all about this "glorious" crush she has on a cute guy at school. He smiles but doesn't comment when he remembers how he felt when he was in love with Rachel. He still is.

He gives her a bigger allowance, and with that more chores to do. She gladly obliges. It makes him proud that she is so productive. Occasionally she'll ask to bring a friend or two over and he accepts. One time she found Cujo in Rachel's drawers in the dresser and asked to watch it with her friends, but with shaky hands he snatched it back and shook his head. She looked disappointed, but she did not dare ask why he wouldn't allow it.

He reads Little Women again. When he actually reads the part where Beth dies for the first time, he finds himself crying, remembering that dreaded day he came home from his audition to find the police, the baby wailing at the top of her lungs, Monica's puffy red eyes, and Chandler's upset face. He gets up and throws the book into the freezer, slamming it shut, remembering how Rachel put it in the freezer for him when he read about Beth being sick as he slides down the apartment wall.

He woke up Emma, of course. She rushes to his side after tiredly rubbing her eyes and asks what's wrong. He doesn't respond. Thirteen years and it still tears him to pieces. Thirteen years and it was never really an official love because he put Ross' feelings of jealousy first. Thirteen years and the love still burns strong and he misses her and it hurts and the pain doesn't lessen like the pain of losing his mother and the dog does, or even Phoebe a little bit; it just gets worse.

Not that Phoebe being gone doesn't hurt less. They had so much in common, an understanding. He was like a father to her, she said, which was why he walked her down the aisle. He runs a hand through his hair after Emma goes back to bed, at his request, pajama pants swishing slightly. She had begun to fill out in the past year or so, and when she began to develop and ask him curiously of what she should do, he winced and felt nervous. He didn't know how to explain it to his daughter, and it was a girl thing, and he would have felt wrong talking about it.

So, by instinct, he sends her to Monica. She takes Emma shopping for everything she needs but every time she begins to grow out of something, she comes to him again and he does the same thing he always does; send her back to aunt Monica. Emma likes spending time with her cousins, anyway. They're getting big now, too. It seems like everything is going by so fast but every time he looks back on the past, it feels like just yesterday he lost Rachel to whatever was tearing her down.

He leaves white lilies on the dresser constantly, and sometimes he spots Emma sniffing them, a peaceful smile on her face, and he sees Rachel in her. It makes him look away. Sometimes he still has to when he looks her in the eyes, the same blue color just as always.

And she still accepts him as her father. He even told her about Ross being her real father, to which she frowned and shook her head. She didn't like Ross very much. She had visited with him once, just once, when the gang finally fell back into contact with him. Monica was overjoyed to begin receiving phone calls from him. Joey overheard once he has two other kids with Emily, and it still makes him seethe with anger inside. But he doesn't breathe a word.

He never has.

He is beginning to grow restless again. For several years before the twelfth year the pain hadn't seemed so strong, but now as it closes in on thirteen years since he came home that day, he can feel the darkness coming back. He knows it was inevitable, but he somehow manages as usual not to let it show around his daughter.

He thinks he is making Rachel proud. And he silently reassures her he will see her soon.

All in good time.


	24. Teenager

Fifteen years, and Emma is sixteen. She is driving in no time, and he gives her Phoebe's little taxi cab. Mike said he didn't really need it anyway. Emma is more excited to get it than he expects. Honestly, he expected she would hate it because it's not a cool, speedy car that all her friends are driving. Instead, she seems to cherish it like some missing piece of a puzzle.

She finds the box that is closed up and locked at the bottom of the car and asks what it is. He becomes embarrassed when he remembers holding it and asking the same question to Phoebe on the telephone. He explains it is Phoebe's..well, grandmother, and ships it back to Mike, who gladly accepts it. He hears not long after Mike has dumped the ashes on a beach somewhere down in Florida where he lives. The news makes him a little happy, he knows that's what Phoebe will have wanted.

This is the year Emma brings home her first boyfriend. He is not used to this, for sure, but he knows he is protective, because he is looking him up and down and asking all the questions he can think of. Emma rolls her eyes, and grabs the boy's arm and walks away.

It is the first time he feels a different kind of emptiness tear at him.

He is losing her faster than he thought.

He sits up in his bed and talks to Rachel for the rest of that night, regardless of whether or not it's just thin air, but in his mind, she seems to respond, and his senses even pick up on it once in a while. He truly is to the point he is nearly positive she is there every time he needs her. A sad smile appears on his face when he imagines her consoling him with that sweet little smile of hers.

He really doesn't know what to do still. Still has no idea how he managed to be a father thus far without setting something on fire or making some terrible, embarrassing mistake. Somehow he hasn't. How, he doesn't know.

And for once in a long time that night he found he was missing the scent of her. The familiar loneliness had crept in again and made a nest inside him, so he lit one of her vanilla candles and left it on the table by his bed in his room. Surprisingly, he finds Emma is awake. He sternly tells her to go to bed, but she sticks her tongue out at him and shuts Rachel's door in his face. His eyebrows knit together but he doesn't further press the issue. He is far too tired.

He curls up under his covers, breathing in vanilla, and closes his eyes, finding he can't sleep. A shaky frown forms on his face in the dark, and he tenses, flinching, when a familiar pair of arms and a more personal smell of vanilla curls itself around his waist, and a warmth presses against his back, and instantly his defenses crumble and he relaxes completely. The word he hasn't said in what seems like forever escapes him quietly, tiredly.

"Rachel."


	25. Coming Home

Twenty years. Joey reviews the events thus far thoughtfully. Emma has graduated and headed off to get her license as a fashion designer three years ago. She will be finishing her degree in a matter of years and she is doing well. She is twenty-one, and he is fifty-three. She is of legal drinking age, and she is just recently married.

Monica and Chandler's two kids are on the brink of graduating themselves, and so is Phoebe's child, whom he hasn't seen since Phoebe died. He got a picture of her high school photos though, and she is as gorgeous as he thought she would be.

He spends most of his nights alone now, perhaps drinking a beer, perhaps watching Cujo and dwelling on old memories, maybe even reading a book. He alternates between his room and Rachel's, and even occasionally falls asleep on the lounge chair and the couch. He keeps the pictures of her sparkling clean, and places the one of he and Rachel on her 30th birthday on top of his TV.

The night he comes home from his daughter's wedding he makes sure to tell her all about it and how nice the lucky man is, and of his approval. Says that he even asked him for a blessing during the speeches, which he gracefully gave. It puts a smile on his face to see how happy his daughter is. She has changed quickly from little crying baby, moody teenager, to mature adult. He knows she will go far in life.

Chandler visits every morning but most of the time Joey goes to their house. He spends time with Monica and Chandler and even plays some games with their kids, entertains them. Monica is always happy to see him, too, but he can still see sympathy in her eyes, like she knows how much it still hurts. He knows it still pains her too, but he still doesn't want her sympathy.

Emma calls him every night for advice and sometimes help with some of her homework, but she has excelled in math since she was a little girl and doesn't need him to give her Chandler's phone number (again) so she can ask him about it. She visits on holidays and offers to play chess with him, but she knows how to play it the right way instead of the way he played it with Phoebe, so it confuses him. She smiles and laughs, plays it his way.

Monica is the only one still in contact with Ross really. His kids are growing up, too, and it seems to be that the marriage is lasting. He'd like to be happy for the man, but instead it still brings a bitter taste into his mouth, so he turns his head and looks the other way whenever Ross calls when he is visiting Monica. He doesn't think what he feels is ever going to go away.

He rubs his eyes as he sits in the lounge chair. Maybe it's time to go to bed. He's thinking too much again. He curls up in his bed, pulling the covers over him. He doesn't know where Hugsy went, he thinks the penguin is resting in Rachel's room in Emma's old crib. Somewhere along the line, Emma put him there. A perfect final stop.

He closes his eyes, breathing out a sigh, and sleeps, dreaming of the time Rachel sang him the same lullaby she sang Emma when he couldn't sleep one night. He feels himself slipping away, slowly, quietly, and he finds that something warm is filling the gaping loneliness he's felt for twenty years, but something wakes him. It's Chandler. Joey's eyes focus on the worried look on his face.

"Joey? Joey. We should get you to a doctor, can you hear me? Come on.."

He has no idea what's going on, but his heartbeat feels slow. It's calming. Chandler begins to turn to get the phone, but Joey reaches out and grabs his wrist. And smiles. Chandler's face turns to that of surprise, shock. He's guessing he's looked happier than he has in a very long time. He feels tears coming to his eyes, not because of a burning sadness this time.

Words bubble on his lips. "Let me go, Chandler." His voice is quiet, soft, and he smiles through his tears again. "Please."

Chandler's lower lip begins to wobble, and he can tell he's about to cry. "I'll be happier now." he offers reassuringly. "I don't want to live in misery like this anymore. I've done my job, Emma can cope, please, Chandler, please..."

"Okay." That's the only thing his friend says. The man that was like a brother to him. Joey smiles again and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. Every time he breathes the smell of vanilla is getting stronger and he squeezes Chandler's hand reassuringly, before free-falling into darkness.

-

A blinding light wakes him. He gasps and sits up, taking in big gulps of air, rubbing his eyes, feeling groggy, but well-rested for the first time in a long time. He stands up slowly, looking around. Something's..not right. It is his apartment, but no one is there in his room. No Chandler. He looks over at the mirror, shocked to find no gray hairs, no extreme dark circles, looking thirty-three like before. Was it..all a horrible, horrible dream? He hears someone moving around just beyond his door and rubs his eyes again, opening it slowly.

"Chandler, what are you do.." He doesn't finish as he slowly moves his hands away from his eyes.

Rachel.

Standing in the kitchen, looking at one of the pictures of her and Joey and wiping the frame clean thoughtfully, tears in her eyes, in her pajamas. The breath is stolen from him. Partially from shock, partially from how drop-dead-beautiful she looks. He is shaking, wondering if this is all some dumb hallucination. She is too busy looking at the picture to notice a thing. So he gathers the courage to declare his presence. She still looks thirty-two.

What he wants to be a yell of happiness turns into a tight squeak. "Rachel?"

She puts the picture down and looks up. She smiles radiantly at him, the smile he remembers. The smile he loves. He is frozen to where he stands awkwardly by his lounge chair, mouth crookedly open. "Rachel," he repeats softly.

She smiles again and shakes her head. "Joey." Her voice. God, the voice he missed. It's soft and understanding and full of joy. She rushes forward before he can reply, and he opens his arms and welcomes her into them, holding her close in a tight embrace. Yes. She's real. He feels her heartbeat against his, steady. Feels the rise and fall of her sides.

He smells the vanilla fragrance, and closes his eyes, pressing a kiss to her forehead, gripping her tighter. Her arms snake around his waist and grip his back reassuringly. "Rach..," He has to say her name again. "Rach."

"I'm here."

"Rachel..."

"I promise."

He drops the bombshell he hasn't said in a long time to her face. The one that's been tearing through him all these years. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He looks down, wanting nothing but to look at her. He is surprised to find, on her left hand, are the rings he bought. The engagement ring and the wedding band. The same ones. "Are these.."

"Yes. I accepted, didn't I?"

"So..it's not..just a horrible dream? Everything..happened? I'm.." He pauses, frowning. "..I'm dead?" He feels a little guilty for leaving Chandler like that, but hopes he will understand. He still has Monica to get him through it, but Chandler has had such a rough time. Rachel, his daughter, Phoebe, now him.

"Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but that's right."

He says nothing for a few minutes. He tilts her chin up to look at him, finds himself smiling. He holds her tighter, fearing if he lets her go, she will fade away, and she gives him an angelic, reassuring smile.

"Hey."

"Hi." she replies, smile widening. His does the same. He brushes her bangs out of her eyes, ecstatic to be looking into the blue pools again.

He leans in and places his lips on hers, chuckling a little, and a happiness he has felt only few times before fills him when she returns the kiss.

"Welcome home," she whispers.


End file.
